


Easy On The Eyes

by being_alive



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff and Smut, POV Second Person, Post-Canon, though with more smut than fluff tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 08:04:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21406909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/being_alive/pseuds/being_alive
Summary: An idea comes to you then, as your gaze settles on his profile once more, an idea too good to pass up, so you don't. Besides, you can always watch the movie some other time, and hopefully pay more attention to it then. You smile at Simon again and ask, "How about a game, then?""A game?" Simon replies, looking back at you with eyebrows raised. Your smile widens, though more in deviousness than happiness, and reply, "You try to watch the movie, andItry to distractyou."
Relationships: Simon (Detroit: Become Human)/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 103





	Easy On The Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> I recently finished my first playthroughs of Detroit: Become Human, and after all the trouble I went through to find a way to get Simon to live through to the very end, it didn't seem right that I hadn't written anything with him yet.

Simon has the bluest eyes you've ever seen anyone have, human and android alike. You know that technically every other PL600 has the same eye color as Simon, but there's still something different about him and his eyes. Perhaps, you concede, the reason his eyes seem so _blue_ is all because of proximity.

The first time you'd seen him had been through the screen of your television, and even then it hadn't been for long. You'd only managed to catch the tail end of one of the news broadcasts that had been on, the night that androids had been given their freedom after a peaceful protest, but it was long enough for you to see Simon as the camera panned over him for the briefest of moments. You were first able to see Simon in person, and fairly up close, a little over two months following that broadcast, after your landlord had told you about the new neighbors who were moving into the apartment across from yours that had been vacated during the revolution. 

You'd gone to visit your new neighbors one day after work, out of curiosity, and Simon had been the one to answer the door. Almost immediately, you had found yourself entranced by him, lost in the clear blue of his eyes and unable to speak. Until, that is, Simon asked if you were okay. The question pulled you out of your near trance, and you quickly sputtered out an apology and an introduction. 

Luckily for you, Simon had seemed more amused than anything else as he introduced himself in turn, and despite the slight awkwardness of your first meeting, you and he ended up soon becoming friends, though it had taken a little while for you to realize that he had, in fact, been the one you'd seen through your television. Rather, it hadn't been until you'd seen Markus, along with North, leaving the apartment that you'd realized just who Simon really was. 

Since then, you've become friends with Josh as well, and you've gotten to be on relatively friendly terms with Markus as well, though it was with Simon that things eventually changed from friends into something more, and everything has been perfect ever since. Well, almost perfect, because North still doesn't particularly like you, but other than that, everything is practically perfect. Honestly, there's no way you can complain about the fact that you've gotten to go from seeing Simon on ten seconds' worth of a broadcast to now getting to sit beside him on the couch in your apartment, pressed shoulder to shoulder as the two of you watch a movie you've been dying to see for months now.

Or, at least, _that_, the movie and the cuddling and the couch, had been the original plan for this evening. Things have ended up changing to the point that instead of paying attention to the movie, you find yourself instead studying Simon intently, admiring the profile of his face, the line of his nose, the shape of his chin, the slight upwards quirk of his lips, the way his blue gaze is trained intently on the movie playing out on your television, and all the little things too, like the way his sideburns are just the slightest bit darker than the yellow of his hair while his eyebrows are several shades darker than both, and all the other little details in his skin that make it so easy to forget that plastic is what lies just underneath the surface.

You envy him, sometimes, if for no other reason than because of the ease with which he's able to commit things to his memory. You're fairly sure that he's been able to recall your face in most likely perfect detail from almost the moment you and he first met, while you, on the other hand, could see him every day for the rest of your life and still not be able to remember him whenever you're not with him as vividly as you can see him now. The faults in your all too human memory are a shame, really, but it's because of them that you have the excuse to do what you're doing now, to stare, to admire, and, admittedly, sometimes to ogle. You can feel your lips start to turn upwards into a smile as you look at him, and it's not long after then that Simon turns his head to look at you, interrupting your staring, those blue eyes shining with amusement as he says, "I thought you really wanted to watch this movie."

"I did! I do," you say, quickly, face heating up, before adding, "You're just very distracting."

"In a good way, I hope," Simon says, teasingly, the corners of his lips curving upwards into a smile. You laugh and reply, "I think you already know that you're distracting in only the very best ways."

He must, you decide, especially with all the times he's caught you engaged in staring very similar to this, including even the day you and he had first met. Simon chuckles at that, shaking his head just slightly, before looking back at the television. Reluctantly, you force your own gaze back to it as well. You're able to stay focused for a few minutes, but before long you find your gaze drifting back to Simon instead. 

An idea comes to you then, as your gaze settles on his profile once more, an idea too good to pass up, so you don't. Besides, you can always watch the movie some other time, and hopefully pay more attention to it then. You smile at Simon again and ask, "How about a game, then?"

"A game?" Simon replies, looking back at you with eyebrows raised. Your smile widens, though more in deviousness than happiness, and reply, "You try to watch the movie, and _I_ try to distract _you_."

"Oh?" Simon asks, amusement clear in his voice. Your smile widens as you reach over and rest one hand, palm down, on his knee. You slowly move your hand upwards, dragging against the soft material of his pants, until your hand rests very, very close to a certain part of his anatomy.

"Oh," Simon repeats, his voice dropping lower this time. You slide your hand slowly back down to rest on his knee once more as you ask, "So, what do you think?"

Simon falls silent at that, but you can tell by the look on his face that he wants to say something. You watch the movement of his throat as he swallows unnecessarily and then blinks as if to refocus himself before finally saying, "I think this game definitely sounds promising."

"Good," you say, pausing for the briefest of moments to think before continuing, "If I get you to look away from the movie, I win. If I can't, then you win."

Simon chuckles, his bright blue gaze already starting to darken with desire as he asks, "And what does the winner get?"

You think for a moment before replying, "That's to be decided later."

"Fine," Simon says, turning his gaze back to the television screen as he continues, "I'm ready when you are."

"There's no need to be impatient, Simon," you tell him, teasingly, as you trail your hand upwards again.

"I'm not impatient," Simon counters, his gaze still locked onto the screen even as his words trail off into a low groan as you slide your fingers along the inside of one of his thighs before your hand closes on his cock. He's not hard yet, but you don't think things will stay that way for long. At least, you hope they won't. You stroke him through the material of his pants, feeling as his cock slowly begins to stiffen underneath your touch, but soon find yourself growing bored of his lack of other responses. So, you pull your hand away and begin to move into position for the second phase of _Operation Distract Simon_.

As you drop to your knees in front of him, you look up at him to see if anything about him has changed. His cheeks are starting to flush blue, but other than that, he gives no sign that he's even aware of what you're doing. As if to prove the point of his feigned indifference, Simon reaches for a pillow from the couch and hands it to you, but still keeps his gaze trained on the television. You almost want to laugh as you accept the pillow, because of course he'd think about something like that even in a time like this, but don't. 

Instead, you simply place the pillow underneath you, shift slightly to get comfortable, and then nudge his legs slightly farther apart. Your gaze flicks back up to his face, just to check, but he's still as impassive as before. You shake your head slightly, in amused disbelief, and then let your gaze drop lower.

He's starting to grow harder, you notice with delight as your gaze lands upon the not-so-slight bulge in the front of his black pants, and smile at the sight because it means that what you're doing is actually affecting him, even if it doesn't seem like it. You tug the front of his pants down just far enough to let his cock, almost completely hard now, spring free. After another brief glance up at Simon's unbothered countenance, you let your gaze fall back downwards as you wrap your fingers around his cock and then begin to stroke.

As you continue to work your hand up and down his cock, you look up at Simon once more, only to find that he's now gripping his arms tightly enough for the skin of his fingertips to give way to the plastic underneath, but still, his gaze never wavers from the television.

Time for the next step, you decide, and lean in closer to him. You glance back down at his cock in your hands just to make sure you're still on track with doing what you're doing, and then glance back up at him. He's breathing faster now, you note, and then, with your gaze still trained to the best of your ability on his face, you lick a broad stripe up his cock, from base to flushed tip.

He blinks, once, twice, three times, but still doesn't look away. You refrain from sighing in favor of taking the tip of his cock into your mouth. As you suck and lick at him, a small noise tears itself from the back of his throat, but when you look up at him, you find him as impassive as ever. Well, except for the way he's biting down, hard, on his bottom lip. The skin of his lip flickers around his teeth, but nevertheless he remains focused on the television. 

Reluctantly, you tear your gaze away from his face, but only so that you can focus better on the task at hand, or rather, at mouth. You move your hand away from the base of his cock in favor of resting it on the smooth skin of his thigh as you take him deeper into your mouth. His cock isn't small, not by any means, but neither is he excessively large, so it's not a struggle to take him all the way into your mouth, and then to establish a rhythm of sucking, licking, and bobbing along the length of his cock. Seemingly as if to prove a point, Simon refrains from thrusting into your mouth, though for once you find yourself unable to complain about this particular show of self-control.

At some point, you suppose you forget to turn your gaze back up to his face to check his reaction, because before you know it, Simon is gasping as he, with a twitch of his hips, comes in your mouth. His release is practically tasteless, so you're able to swallow it easily once you pull off of his cock. Resignedly, you sit back and tuck his cock carefully back into his pants, sure that you've lost, and then finally look up to Simon's face.

When you do so, you find him already looking down at you. If it weren't for the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the flush across his cheeks, the fact that you'd just swallowed the evidence of his orgasm, of course, and the fact that his blue gaze, still darkened with desire, is trained on you and not on the television, you almost wouldn't be able to tell that you had any effect on him. But you _did_, and you know that. He knows it too, you can tell, in the way that he slowly smiles and says, "You win."


End file.
